Wreckage
by Nahaliel
Summary: She shouldn't even be in this picture. With Nick's gun in her hands. That spare gun he always keeps in the dresser drawer, under that tiny velvet box her ring is still carefully tucked into. Short one-shot based on promo for 2x13.


**One-shot based on the promo for 2x13 (so, spoiler-ish for that and all the events leading up to 2x12)... Juliette shoots someone or something in that promo. I'm just dying to know who (if it actually finds its target) is on the receiving end of the bullet. On March 8th, I guess I'll find out just how AU this ends up being. Warnings: implied violence, blood, a couple swear words because Monroe is _really _pissed, kind of dark and angsty, short, not a death fic. **

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No one had ever told him just how much taking a bullet would hurt. Sure, there's the expectation, and having seen it in movies and from afar, that one time, behind the yellow tape delimiting a crime scene some years back. Living it is different. Like nothing he's ever experienced before. The word agony takes on a whole new meaning now.

Nick screws his eyes shut against the unexpected, white-hot fire spreading through his rib cage, and he desperately searches for _how_ they came to this. Why? _Why?_ His thoughts are a mess, mostly revolving around pain. _So much pain…_ There's also anger and helplessness and sadness. He wants to kill Adalind; Renard. And Juliette.

Juliette.

She shouldn't even be in this picture. With Nick's gun in her hands. That spare gun he always keeps in the dresser drawer, under that tiny velvet box her ring is still carefully tucked into.

Is he dying?

There are footsteps next to his head, by his side—his injured side, and he cringes. He sucks in a pained gasp, it sounds more like a whimper. It's like trying to breathe through a straw. He can't get enough air, and he's panting, wheezing. Too fast. White stars explode before his eyes and he grips the fabric of his bloody, torn sweater tighter in his fist. That sweater Juliette had once told him was her favorite of his.

"Nick? Oh, shit… Nick."

He doesn't know who the voice belongs to. Doesn't care. Unless it's—Renard. Nick's eyes snap open and he chokes. He can only see a blur bending over him. Someone grips his hands and pries them away from the wound.

"What did you do?" the voice is cold, dangerous.

"I-I-oh my god. I don't know…" Juliette stammers, voice high and wavering.

"Get out," comes the unmistakable, familiar growl and Nick feels himself relax fractionally. Monroe.

Two sets of footsteps send vibrations through the floorboards Nick is stretched out on. The floorboards of his own house. Now shiny and slippery and red with his blood.

"You," the heavier ones stop as Monroe speaks again, "Will pay for the lives you fucked up. One way or another." Then, the footsteps are gone.

"Nick," Monroe shakes him. His draws in a shivering gasp and tries to focus on his face. "You stay with me, ok?"

Monroe's big hands cover the wound and he presses down. Nick's back arches and his right leg kicks out reflexively; a scream is torn from his lips.

"I'm sorry… I'm sorry…"

"M'nroe," Nick gasps, "Just stop… It's over."

He feels the hand gripping his shirt tighten, and through the gray creeping into his vision, there's the sudden flash of red eyes, gleaming furiously at him.

"Don't you _dare_ say that. It's not over. You hear me?"

Truth is: it really is over. He doesn't even know who he is anymore. _What_ he is anymore. And she's gone. Completely gone now. Not just halfway like before, that ghost of who she used to be as the ever-present, sick and lingering reminder that she was getting on with her life in _their_ house like he didn't even exist. She's lost to him now, and there's no way she's ever coming back. Maybe listening to Aunt Marie that one time in his life would have saved them from all the pain, all the lies, all the hurt. All the blood. Because, now, the truth is: Nick wants it to be over.

Things slowly fade to nothing, and pretty soon, even Monroe's voice saying his name over and over again is lost to him.

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_End_


End file.
